“I want to lay all my life at your feet. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books.
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